


Queer Eye for the Hockey Guy

by Anonymous



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Carolina Hurricanes, Coming Out, Fluff, Hamilton the Pig is not here in writing but he is in spirit, M/M, author thought of title before story and it's fairly obvious, queer eye, set in near future, siblings annoying the hell out of each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 15:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21181409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dougie's brother is an asshole, his coach is terrifying, and his no-longer-a-rookie has a smile he keeps staring at.All in all, his life is a bit of a mess.Luckily, he's got help coming to help him *un*-straighten it up.





	Queer Eye for the Hockey Guy

Dougie’s just having a good time watching Blue Planet II when his brother decides to FaceTime him. He sighs and pauses David Attenborough’s description of pajama sharks, which are apparently fucking awesome, to respond to whatever is on Freddie’s no-good older-brother mind.

“You’re going to be on TV,” Freddy opens with, which is not a good start.

“That ship’s sailed, Freddie,” Dougie responds, because it kind of has.

“No, jackass, real TV,” says Freddie, as though NHL TV wasn’t real, the fucker.

“Oh fuck, what’ve you done now?” 

“Just appreciate what I do for you, Dougie. I’ve been to your place. You have one single chair next to your dining table. How old are you? When’s the last time you bought a nice outfit for yourself?”

“It’s—The econom—How is this relevant?”

“Your agent already cleared it, Jesus. Why don’t you calm down there?”

“CLEARED WHAT?” screeches Dougie, to no avail. Freddie simply smirks at him and hangs up.

Dougie’s willing to write it off, too, as just older-brother fuckery. It’s hot in Raleigh, and maybe the heat is unhinging him a little. Except then he gets television waivers sent to him by his agent, and he signs out of habit, and then he’s interviewed by a group of sweaty cameramen to talk about his life issues.

Why is not having a certain style such a bad thing for a 26-year-old? He’s a little put out by that, honestly. At least he doesn’t wear Gucci slippers, unlike some goalies. And he’s a great fucking cook, _Freddie_. Who cares that he’s only got juice in the fridge when he has Kraft dinners in the pantry? 

It’s worse when Rod pulls him aside after practice To Talk, without the buffer of Svech’s sunny disposition to protect him.

“Now,” the coach begins, pacing about like a caged animal, “I support you in everything, as I support everyone on the fucking team.”

Dougie, recalling something about how predators sense movements, stands still. 

“I uh, I’m so fuckin proud of how you’ve matured since coming here, Dougie. Really, I’m fucking proud. I’m not sure why you need this fucking show, but if it makes you happy, I support you. You know, hockey is for everyone and all that,” the coach is rambling in the terrifying way he does, like he’s about to congratulate everyone on the hard work and then send them out again for bag skates.

“Wait, what?” Dougie takes a few seconds to process that last bit. Who _told? Who knows?_ He shoves it back down immediately. He can smother his own feelings better than anyone in the league, thank you muchly.

“You know, with this uh,” Rod pauses in his pacing, body still too large from years of work to be wearing a coach’s tracksuit, “I’m not sure if the name is okie-dokie for me to say, but this uh, Queer Eye show, you know.”

Dougie’s still working on the Hockey Is For Everyone shit, so the combo of Rod the fucking Bod'amour saying “okie-dokie” and the fact that he’s going to be on fucking Queer Eye hits him like he’s blocked one of Ovi’s shots from the point. 

  
“Is _that_ the show I’m on?” Dougie says. He’s going to murder Freddie, probably.

Rod turns again, and he looks at Dougie, with serious and terrifying and somewhat piercing eyes. “Ah fuck, I thought this was how you were coming out.”

Dougie hears something like a yelp, and realizes he’s the one making that noise. He stops immediately. “…Ah.”

Rod is staring at him with something he probably imagines to be a caring look. It’s mildly terrifying, but Dougie is also, generally, half-scared of Rod at any given moment.

“Are you, er, gay, then?” Rod asks, and isn’t that the 5-million-dollar question.

“It’s calledQueer Eye for the _Straight_ Guy,” Dougie wants to say.Instead, what comes out is:

“The team will keep me if I am?” In a voice softer than he remembers having as a grown man.

Rod nods, coughs. “Yes, of course. Of course, Dougie. You’re one of ours, aren’t ya?”

Dougie feels something stick in his throat at the words, and he tries to focus on something, anything else in order to process. Coach looks poorly contained, holding still like this. Aren’t tracksuits supposed to be like, a loose fit, not stretched in the shoulders? “You know, my daughter’s about your age, and she’s got lots of — y’know, friends, gay, uh, guy friends.”

“Coach, _please_ don’t try to set me up.” It’ll be one thing to come out to the team (and with this response from the legend who captained the Canes to a Cup, he might do that after all). It’s quite another to hand Foegs chirping material like ‘needs Rod to find dates.’

Rod nods, goes in for the hug, which Dougie meets. “Good talk. I’m proud of you, kid. You’ve done so well, and I’m proud you decided you could tell me.”

Dougie’s overwhelmed at this point, so he goes back to the weights room, pausing in the thresh-hold, before booking it to the bathroom and calling Freddie.

“Asshole!” He hisses at his phone. “Queer Eye, really, dickhead? You put me on Queer Eye?”

“Obviously.” There’s a pause. “Who told you? I only told your agent.” 

“Rod Brind’A-fucking-mour just pulled me aside to congratulate me on coming out, you fucking asshole.” Dougie says, before breaking into hysterical giggles. What the _fuck _just happened?

Freddie, delighted, is cackling into the phone, full of an older brother sadistic joy, likely. He pauses to breathe, wheezing out, “You— Rod — at least — at least it was a good reaction right?”

“Yes, and now I’m going to fucking come out to my team for some fucking reason.”

The laughter on the other end dies off. “Dougie, not going to lie, I kinda thought you already had. You’re always hanging with that Russian kid. Probably wouldn’t have set this up if I knew you hadn’t, honestly.”

“Okay, his name is Svech, first of all—”

“I think it’s Andrei, actually—”

“—And anyways, he’s my rookie. I gotta hang out with him.”

“The Canes released a video of you getting ice cream with him in the most domestic, soft thing I’ve ever fucking—“

“Foegele was there too!”

“Oh, so that wasn’t a date?”

“N—no, it was a PR thing!”

“You’re just using that kid as a PR boyfriend? How could you.”

“We hang out outside of PR —wait, _boyfriend?_”

Dougie feels he’s lost control of the conversation, but, to be fair, he has.

“Look I’ve got to go, Freddy. I’ve got after practice weights, and then getting food with Sv—a teammate. Platonically, you dick.”

“Kiss Svechnikov hello for me, loser. Later,” Freddie hangs up. Dougie can feel his smugness through the phone. Fuck, Queer Eye? _Is_ he ready to come out? He’s finally with a team that likes him, and a fanbase that actually really fucking likes him.

He ends up grabbing a later lunch with Svech, _platonically_, and listens to the kid talk excitedly about his brother being called up to the Red Wings.

“We play first day November; I hope I can see him!” Svech is beaming, bright white teeth flashing and dimples dimpling. 

“Yeah, you excited to play your big brother?”

“I’m going to hit him lots, yes! Maybe get in fight, who knows.” 

Dougie laughs, too. Svech’s smile grows wider in response, creasing up at his eyes. “God, I wish I could punch my stupid brother.”

“What’s Freddie do?” 

“Freddie signed me up for a TV show, and I’m apparently going to be on it. I got a — speech from Coach.”

“Was it good one?”

“Yeah, but I may have come out to him.”

“Come out?” Svech is smiling at him still, rosy cheeked and dimply as ever. Dougie remembers the kid’s Russian and from like, Siberia, and he summons a spine from wherever he left it.

“Oh, uh. Svech, I’m uh. Gay. Haven’t told anyone else on the team yet, but I will. Probably.” 

Svech nods contemplatively, before breaking out again into a grin. “Ah, you been hiding boyfriend from your best friend, Doogie? Or can I — wingman you, find you boyfriend?”

Dougie smiles back, relieved beyond words. “Right, just have my back when the TV crew comes in.”

Of course, the next day, they’ve got to come to PNC for a different sort of media. The SPCA out in Wake County’s brought in puppies and cats, and despite literally just having surgery on his abs, Martinook is rolling around with a puppy with a look of absolute delight. Dougie watches Petr put a tiny kitten in his glove, and it’s honestly too fucking cute to describe. He feels abruptly guilty for not wearing the #19 cap Petr had made specially for him. 

“Doogie! Come here!” Svech calls him over. “Look at me! Look at this!”

The guy is absolutely covered in kittens and dimpling into a camera. Dougie wants to coo at the sight. “Having fun there, Svechy?”

“Oh, you know it!” He carefully hands the kittens back to the volunteer in charge, dropping a kiss on the forehead of one of them. Smiles at the volunteer, tells her, “Thank you.”

He turns back to Dougie. “You know, there’s a big orange cat here too, looks just like you.”

“Yeah?” Dougie feels himself grinning back.

“Oh, for sure. Big and ginger — that your Tinder bio, right?” Svech bumps shoulders with Dougie. “Oh, we should make photo with her, totally.” 

Svech starts walking with the assumption that Dougie will follow.

Dougie does.

“Look, Dougie, there she is!” Svech's voice is joyful. 

The cat is, as described, big and ginger. Dougie smiles awkwardly at her. She glares back.

“Can we make photo together?” Svech asks the photographer who’s with them. She nods, pure professionalism, a cat toy in her mouth to attract the cat’s attention to the camera.

Svech gently picks up the cat, pets her a bit to calm her down, and waves over Dougie. “Hold her, like this, yes?”

The photographer nods, and she motions with her hand for them to get closer together to fit in frame. It’s hard to balance while squatting, so Dougie puts his arm around Svech to stabilize himself. Svech grins, and as he pets the big ginger cat, his hand keeps brushing Dougie’s by mistake. 

Dougie thinks very platonic things, and he smiles for the camera.

-

The Canes upload the photos, and about ten minutes later, Dougie gets a call from Freddy.

“Pozdravlyayem prekrasnuyu paru,” Freddy opens with, in what must be absolutely butchered Russian.

“Gesundheit?”

“I spent five minutes learning how to pronounce that, dickhead. It’s Russian.”

“Not how you said it. What’s it mean?”

“Congrats to the happy couple. You ought to be studying up if this is long-term. When are you telling Mom about your pet Russian model boyfriend?”

“We’re not — we’re not together! Svech is straight, dumbass,” Dougie feels the usual headache he gets from Freddy coming on.

“Hm. Buddy, I’ve seen engagement photos less domestic.”

“We’re friends!”

“Right.”

—

Dougie thinks about it, sometimes. It’s embarrassing. He spends a lot of time with Svech, and he’s objectively a good looking guy. He fits under Dougie’s arm, against his chest, so easily.

It feels dangerous to think about it. He doesn’t stop.

—

The Netflix camera crew shows up on an off-day, and Dougie lets them in with a sense of grudging acceptance. The camera judgmentally pans across Dougie’s, hm, _minimalist _apartment.

“What are you looking for from the Fab Five? Mention the question in your answer, please.”

Dougie realizes exactly what he’s committing to when he opens his mouth and says, “I’m hoping that the Fab Five can help me come out as the first openly gay NHLer."

The crew is completely unfazed. Dougie’s not sure that any of them know what hockey is. Which…kind of explains how a show about normal, everyday people is coming to fix the life of a guy with more money than he knows what to do with.

—

The first warning Dougie has that the Fab Five are arriving is when Freddie shows up in town, just before he leaves for morning skate. It’s a slow week, just practice and one home game. Next week’s packed, of course, because NHL schedulers hate him personally.

Anyways, Freddie’s in town, which means he’s probably there to be in the episode. Dougie refuses to think about it, and he goes to practice as usual.

“What’s going on in that giant ginger head of yours, Big Shot?” Foegele skates next to him, snow-showering him a bit. Dick.

“I think the camera crew is at my apartment, Foegs.” The news that Dougie was going to be on Queer Eye had received support from the team dads and constant chirps about being a TV star from Foegele. “Dude, I’m going to come out on TV. Should I tell the team first? fuck.”

Foegele hip checks him, and says, before skating off, “Don’t worry so much, Doug. Just come out to the team on camera.”

Dougie sighs. Rod skates over to him next. “Put some effort in Dougie! Thoughts are pointless! Gains are forever!”

Dougie puts in some effort.

—

After after-practice weights, and seeing Billy, and showering, Dougie finally makes it back to his apartment.

He opens it to see a gaggle of a fabulous five. Oh, fuck, it’s happening.

“Oh, fuck, it’s happening,” he says, grinning at them awkwardly.

“Oh I LOVE your hair color honey!!” He recognizes the personn approaching him as Jonathan van Ness. 

(And so it began.)

He goes to his bedroom with Tan France, where he proudly shows off his blue blazer.

“You know, the broadcasters for my team talk about my blazer a lot!”

Tan France has a polite smile on. “Oh, do they?”

“Have you seen the suits people wear to game day? No one ever spices things up!”

“I _really_ know nothing about hockey, Dougie. You wear suits?”

“Eighty-two times a season for games, plus more for events and stuff.”

“Okay, and you have…. Two suits?”

“I… Well, I got them tailored, but it’s a whole process because I’m nearly two meters tall and apparently most suits don’t fit that naturally. Also, hockey butt.”

Tan clears his throat. “Hockey butt?” He turns his head and looks at Dougie sideways. “Oh, no I can totally see how that’s an issue. So do all players have this, ehm, struggle?”

“I mean, some of my teammates are short, but yeah. Hockey ass is real. Also thighs.” Dougie knows this much, at least. 

“Who do you try to look like when you dress?”

“I uh… I just wear basic stuff?”

“Who would you like to look like?”

“…I don’t know, just an NHL player?”

“You’re— and this isn’t a come-on, I’m just saying it — you’re hot! You’ve got this great body, and you’re just wearing these basic shirts!”

“I’ve got my, uh, blazer; you can’t say that’s not fun.”

It gets worse from there, with his “lack of real food” in the fridge being criticized and culminating with him softly speaking to the absurdly handsome Karamo Brown about growing up gay in the O and knowing he had to keep it quiet, how the rumors of his locker room issues throughout his career have left him feeling too nervous to ever tell a teammate. Lots of things that will hopefully get him sympathy rather than frothing hatred from across the League for being like, gay on TV.

—

They want to see his place of work, which is, apparently, code for “skate for us, but don’t actually demonstrate how you defense, just snow the camera for the Drama, and maybe hit a slapshot or two.” 

They’re also going to film morning skate the next day. Which means his teammates will be given a camera to talk into with express permission to chirp him. 

“Do any of you know how to skate?” Dougie, hit with a flash of brilliance, asks the five strangers his dick of a brother has invited into his life. The ‘no’s make him grin. “Well, now I’ve got to see how this goes. You should get some skates for tomorrow morning.”

He texts Staal his idea, who texts his front office contacts for him. It’s a yes.

The next morning is something of an affair, where the first time skaters are helped around the ice by a team of NHLers with an audience of the Canes’ Digital Media team and the Netflix crew.

There’s not much conversation, just making sure they don’t fall. The conversation comes later.

“So, I wanted to tell all of you that I’m gay,” Dougie says in the locker room, fully aware of the Netflix cameraman. Staal and the Finns just nod. Well, the new Finn Haula grins at him, which feels nice.

Right away, Marty jumps to his feet, eyes wide and manic. “Fuck yeah Doug! Gay rights! WOO!”

Trevor van Riemsdyk grins at Martinook, then at Dougie. “Glad to know you feel comfortable coming out to all of us. We love and support you, buddy. I actually have a pamphlet if you--”

“Thanks Riemer, Marty,” Dougie smiles, a deep anxiety easing in him that he didn’t know was there. James Reimer and Marty Nečas both nod before realizing the thanks was not for them. Always a danger there with hockey nicknames.

“We got you back, Doogie, always!” Svech smiles, as if he hasn’t known already. 

The rest of the little chirps of acceptance filter in afterwards, and Dougie feels humming with positive energy. He walks out with Svech to go do more segments with the Queer Eye people, light as air.

“Oh, who’s this cutie? Gorg, like that coach of yours, wow.” Dougie blanches at the concept of Rod being handsome rather than terrifying. Unaware or uncaring of the destruction he’s wracked on Dougie’s psyche, van Ness looks close to pinching Svech’s cheeks. Dougie’s been there.

“I’d say the coach is more zaddy, actually.” Karamo says. Dougie feels a sense of dread that this is being filmed.

“Oh, Andrei Svechnikov, nice to meet. Coach is handsome to gay guys, Dougie?”

“No.”

“He is, anyways, love your accent honey! We don’t get many Russians on Queer Eye, right Tan?”

“Not that I know of, actually!”

“Yes, I’m Russian, only one on team. The boys say For Russia! when we about to go on ice for games. It’s zh very fun. Maybe we shout Gay Rights now, like Martyman did for Doogie.” Svech is (probably) joking, but the fondness of it does something in Dougie’s chest. “You boys should come to our game this week, make it big conclusion of episode when Dougie scores hat trick, three goals.”

“Right. If I do that, you gotta promise to stop baiting other teams’ captains into fights.”

“You and Staal always there. I’m not worry.”

The Five are watching them go back and forth like it’s interesting, like it’s more than just hockey chat.

-

Dougie goes shopping, gets a new suit, gets a skin care routine, and finally picks out decoration styles for a home that seems increasingly long-term. Antoni insists on teaching him how to make his own mac-and-cheese from scratch, rather than Kraft. It admittedly tastes better but is missing the nostalgia. He talks about being gay in hockey, about being accused of being too soft or too different or not a proper team player for not going to bar crawls with the Flames every night. Karamo’s a good listener.

The week isn’t as transformative for him as he’s seen it be for others, but the episode itself should go a way towards humanizing him and keeping his coming out seen positively, rather than as another example of his “locker room issues.”

The coming out scene in the locker room will actually be played at the end of the episode, after some highlights from a pretty fucking impressive game against Chicago. Dougie thinks that’s fair.

—

In the months waiting for the season to drop on Netflix, the Canes keep playing Canes hockey, for better and for worse. In the slow weeks, no one publishes any leaked news of his sexuality, so score one for NDAs. 

The Svech thing doesn’t go away. It gets worse after the cameras leave, actually, because Svech is sleeping in Dougie’s guest bedroom most nights and making breakfast most mornings, and it’s comfortable. Domestic, even.

—

“You know, I think you should make him contribute to your rent at this point. Most couples share the cost when they move in together.”

“We’re not a fucking couple, Freddie.”

“Right. He just sleeps in your bedroom,

“One of my bedrooms—”

“Eats like every meal with you, and you just look at him _so_ platonically.”

“I do!”

“Right, right, you look at all Russian star wingers like that. I remember the Ovi posters in your room.”

“Okay, those were — those were aspirational, what are you insinuating—”

“You’re a fucking blue-liner, how aspirational was Ovechkin to your game?

“It’s called having a powerful slapshot—“ 

"I love and accept you and your sexuality, but for fucks sake, I just wish you had taste. The man’s more bear than human.”

“You know, ‘bear’ is actually a term in the gay com—“

“Dougie, I pity the family who had to deal with you jerking it to the great toothless eight himself during juniors.”

“I— I fucking lived with you, asshole.”

“I know what I said.”

“And — it is platonic. Again, he’s straight.” Dougie raises a hand to rub at his temples. “Anyways, I don’t look at him like … that.”

“Mhmm.”

“I don’t!”

“Sure.”

—

Svech starts pre-game napping in Dougie’s bed. It's not a big deal: after all, they both sleep and play better for it.

—

“Dougie, I have something to tell you,” Svech says, accent thick around the _th_ing and stretching out his name. They were watching the Cooking Channel, sprawled next to each other on the couch Bobby Berk picked out, but Dougie’s seen this episode of Chopped three times in the past month, so the volume’s low.

“Yeah Svech?”

“So, I look up word in English, and it’s same in Russian. I am bisexual,” he says, and grins up at Dougie cheerfully. “If we say Gay Rights before game for you, can we say Bi Rights for me?”

Oh, fuck.

Dougie looks at him, drops an arm on his shoulder. Opens his mouth wide and yells, in his best Martinook impression, 

“MOTHER RUSSIA! FOR RUSSIA! LET’S GO MARTY! LET’S GO SVECH! GAY RIGHTS! LET’S GO BIS, WOOO.”

Svech’s laugh in response is full body, starting in his belly and continuing to his cheeks, scrunched around his eyes. Dougie smiles, pleased with himself. Svech calms down gradually, laughs easing off into a pleased silence.

“See, I tell you this as first person outside family to know, but it is because I want to go on date with you.”

Dougie’s breath freezes somewhere in his throat.

“I’m okay if you say I’m too young, but spending time with you is best part of day, outside hockey. But you are at hockey too, so that’s better too.”

“I—“ Dougie’s frozen in place, because he knows exactly how well Svech fits with him. His voice is soft in response. “I would like that. You make me happy too, Svech.”

Svech’s smile in response is just as bright as any other, but Dougie feels important to see it. He takes Svech’s sharp face in his hand, feels a dimple under his fingertips. Svech kisses him on the cheek, and darts back, eyes dancing.

“Ah, we should wait for date, Dougie!” 

Dougie rolls his eyes and kisses Svech on the cheek. He’s got a date to plan, after all.

—

“Did I chirp you for that PR clip yet?”

“Which one?”

“‘Never Have I Ever.’ God, I have such a lame brother. Are you bringing the Russian boyfriend home for Christmas?”

“No, I think his mom’s coming to Raleigh.”

“I notice that you didn’t deny the boyfriend thing.”

“We’ve got a date lined up, not that it’s your business.”

“Holy shit, for real?”

“Yes. Are you that surprised? You figured out my feelings before I did.”

“Didn’t realize my nerdy little brother would man up and ask out the guy he’s been interested in for months—-wait. Fuck, you’re robbing the cradle, aren’t you.”

“Please don’t remind me. Seriously, I don’t want to think about it.”

—

The date’s easy, easier than anything Dougie remembers. It helps that Svech knows him, that he knows Svech.

“Should I start calling you Andrei if we’re going to be dating?”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s your name.”

“Svech is my name too, and it’s one you use. Nicknames are still names, you know. You can call me Russian name like Andryusha too. But I am Svech, Foegs is Foegs, and you are Dougie, and this is how things work.”

“I guess.”

“You think too much. Stupid.”

“Yeah, I’m stupid?”

“Oh, big time. Stupidest. Big ginger head and nothing inside.” Svech’s smile is gorgeous. Dougie moves his _hand-made _mac-and-cheese aside and kisses him.

—

When the season’s about to drop, Canes PR calls him in to discuss how he wants to handle the coming out, and to give him fair warning.

Dougie takes warning.

He’s been bulking a bit all season anyways, trying to have extra protection in case another player wants to start something.

He ends up filming a separate coming out video for the Canes, who find him a donation connection with Haven House, the local center that offers crisis housing for gay kids in the area, among other programs. It feels pretty real all of a sudden, where the sunny smile of Svech seemed too good for realness.

— 

His agent had the episode approved, so the first time Dougie watches the episode, he’s got the whole team with him. Svech laying down with his head in his lap and legs stretching across Martinook and Foegele. The Euros are “watching from the kitchen,” though they seem more interested in the increasingly complicated drinks that Edmunson is making. Fleury’s white girl wasted, chilling cross-legged in front of the coffee tableand giggling at van Riemsdyk’s conversation with the rest of the defense (and Reimer, apparently, who is swirling around his glass of red like it’s not his third of the night).

Perfect viewing party conditions. 

—

The episode’s pretty standard, honestly. If Dougie weren’t the first NHLer to come out, he wouldn’t even remember it himself. But the boys have a lot of fun chirping his closet and his fridge, so good for them. 

No, what Dougie remembers from the episode is the looks on Svech and his faces whenever they speak with each other, and he realizes, abruptly, how Freddie could _tell_.

The coming out scene is at the end of the episode, as expected. The loudness of Martinook’s speech is only partially masked by his lack of a mic, and the half-to-fully-drunk crowd in Dougie’s apartment cheers in support. 

He knows this will be spread all across hockey media when he wakes up, and their next game could be very aggressive, but for now, Svech’s head is in his lap, his team is shielding him, and when he looks into the night sky, the moon is bright.

**Author's Note:**

> author is back on the same bullshit that made them write this pair in the first place and definitely feels guilty for it.


End file.
